


Traveling Light

by datadump



Category: The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:41:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5452082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/datadump/pseuds/datadump
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU- Watney is still stranded on Mars, but not alone. Not the whole time anyway. Someone shows up in the middle of his potatoes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. NASA goes hysterical

SOL 187  
For the second time in so many months, NASA headquarters was in chaos. Botanists keeping an eye on the most exotic potatoes ever grown saw it first- a woman in white flashed into existence between the rows of potatoes. Still shots of Watney’s potatoes were scheduled on every satellite pass, today there were not nearly enough. What was going on? Had someone hacked NASA? Was it an alien??? In the first shot, she was clearly in agony. Then she and Watney were looking at each other. For the rest of the shots, he was checking his potatoes, and she was looking annoyed. Someone took a still frame zoomed in on her face- “First contact?!?!?!” The photo circulated like wildfire through NASA. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” Annie’s office was a maelstrom of profanity. IT security locked down the building looking for hackers, any damage to the computer system. Every readout from every data source they had was checked. Sanders typed a message to the only eyes on the scene: JPL-“WATNEY, IS THERE A WOMAN UP THERE WITH YOU? RESPOND ASAP”

Eons later a response came when Watney logged on in the morning- Sol 188. PATHFINDER- “YOU MEAN YOU CAN SEE HER TOO?”  
A ripple of excitement and terror ran through the base. So much more had to be answered. Annie Montrose turned a delicate shade of gray and began to mutter. A stranded astronaut is bad enough, now a potential alien? That looked and acted human? 

JPL--GET US A REPORT! IS SHE AN ALIEN?  
JPL--HOW DID SHE GET INTO THE HUD?  
JPL--DOES SHE HAVE TRANSPORTATION TECHNOLOGY?  
JPL--BE POLITE, DON’T START AN ALIEN WAR  
PATHFINDER--WHAT IF SHE TRIES TO EAT ME? I AM THE TASTIEST THING ON MARS.  
JPL -- BE SERIOUS WATNEY!


	2. The Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's not possible. Just roll with me here guys

First the disorientation fell into understanding, like catching yourself after nearly falling. I had jumped again. Shit. Then I felt the excruciating pain of a thousand nerves protesting being pulled apart and shoved back together. An unknown number of minutes passed before I started to feel the damp ground beneath my body where I had fallen, and sound returned as I realized I was screaming. Last came vision- I was in a white tent filled with plastic and dirt and some kind of plant? No immediate danger then. I would figure it out later. Gasping for air, I lay on the ground as the adrenaline and pain wore off, cursing my own stupidity and wondering when and where I had ended up this time. 

I gingerly sat up and started to take stock of the situation. While my memory of what triggered the jump cleared, I checked to see if I still had all my fingers and toes, and did a cursory check for any other injuries. The silver bracelet I had must be a fake. I petulantly chucked the damn thing across the tent. I was still wearing my white dress and sandals from the planting festivities. The mock crown of rosemary, thyme and marigolds braided into my hair and the offering of seeds were still with me. I wondered if I should hide them before I met whoever owned the white tent. Christians usually didn’t take well to pagan rituals, but overall it was pretty subtle. I could just say I was at a wedding. Plus I liked it. I got off the ground and brushed the dirt off. Red dirt. And smelly- this was a very well fertilized field. I suppressed my annoyance that the dress was probably permanently stained- it certainly wasn’t my biggest problem. Maybe I was in Utah, or Arizona, they have lots of red dirt.  
I began to search the tent for clues about what my next move should be. First contact with the owner was critical- a good impression meant I would have an ally. A bad impression meant I would have to leave immediately. And big tents aren’t exactly common in suburbia- wherever I was had to be in the middle of nowhere. I wove my way past the plastic, to the edge of the tent too look for clues. There was a floor- no dirt outside the plastic. There was also no breeze- it couldn’t be a real tent then, not without any cracks. And it was too geometrically shaped- all straight planes and angles, no draping. So I was in a semi-permanent tent. Odd. I mused over the possibilities, inspecting the things I came across. A helmet was resting on a table- I picked it up and ran my hands over it. Not a motorcycle helmet- a space helmet. A movie prop? A spacesuit to match hung on the wall, good quality too. Really good. Even more odd. I heard a rustle from the side of the tent I hadn’t had time to investigate- the owner was here. Showtime. I gently returned the helmet to its resting place and swatted the red dirt stain in my skirt one more time for good measure. Then I tried to look innocent and non-threatening as I spun around and smiled. “Hello. Do you know where we are?” 

~Mark Watney's point of view~

I bolted upright in bed. There was a noise coming from the farm. Space noise was Very Bad. I stumbled out of bed in a panicked fervor, managing to get tangled in the sheets and fall on my face. It sounded like screaming, but there is no one here to scream. How long had it been going on? Where was it? Maybe it was a very small leak in the HAB and by some miracle it hadn’t decompressed the whole damn place. The noise had stopped, but it still had to be investigated. I moved cautiously toward the farm, just in case something was unstable. I saw what had to be the source of the noise and a pit formed in my stomach. Something was unstable alright--me. The farm looked just fine but there was a girl in the potatoes. Clearly a hallucination. No one could get to Mars, especially not dressed like that. She stood up and started to walk around, to the far side of his plastic sheeting. I should ignore her. Fuck it, I want to see her better before I do. Maybe I can bounce ideas off her, see why I’m hallucinating. The girl set down the helmet she was fondling and turned around. She was beaming a confused smile at me, batting her eyes like an airhead. “Hello,” she said “do you know where we are?” She was very real looking for a hallucination. I eyeballed her up and down- why had my brain conjured a roman? Why not like, my ex-wife or my parents. And for fuck’s sake, why the crown? What on Earth- well, Mars- is wrong with me? Was the oxygen concentration off? May as well answer, see what she does. “Mars obviously. You’re a figment of my imagination, why don’t you know that?” The girl’s mouth fell open in an expression of utter disbelief. I guess she won’t be all that helpful—oh wait, I know why I’m hallucinating. Curvy. Well mostly curvy. She looks about 25, so seriously, what the fuck is with the flowers? They were nice though, the bright green and orange colors set against her dark hair. Oh, rosemary. I wanted that on my potatoes. Green eyes, sharp cheekbones. My mind is an asshole, creating a beautiful woman I can never touch- I bet she would disintegrate if I reached out. The loneliness has finally cracked me. No point to listening to her anymore. Some book I read in psych said that if you ignore hallucinations, they go away. Probably. Now, should I tell NASA? Nah. They’ll wonder why I got up though. Better check the potatoes. And the readouts- make sure I have enough oxygen content, the right pressure. Pretty girl will be gone in the morning. 

~

“Hello, do you know where we are?” I waited for a response, but he didn’t answer right away. The man was wearing only pants. No shoes, no socks. I looked behind him and saw a blanket laying on the floor, between him and barrack-style bunks. The only person here though. I had probably woken him up. Everything was white, clean, sterile. “Mars obviously. You’re a figment of my imagination, why don’t you know that?” He had finally answered my question, but that hadn’t cleared anything up. Mars? No way. Wait –‘figment of my imagination’- He was crazy. That explained everything. Stark. Raving. Mad. And he was eyeing me very closely. Would I have to fight him? “Are you sure we are on Mars?” No answer. “How long have we been here?” Still nothing. “What is your name?” The man sighed and turned to tend to his plants. Well at least he wasn’t a threat “What kind of plants are these?” “What are you looking for?” He looked weary and depressed. “Why don’t you think I’m real?” Silence. No question was going to convince him I was real. I began to look around for answers. The windows looked out onto a barren rugged landscape. I could see solar panels and a …car? ... If this guy was crazy he sure had a lot of money to spend on props. I picked up the helmet again- it looked like a space helmet. “VOGEL” was printed on the back. A horrible suspicion began to grow in my mind. I wandered back to the sleeping area – “Beck” “Lewis” “Johansson” “Martinez” “ARES III” Names from the news and still frames broadcasted as part of the media frenzy began to resurface in the back of my mind, pieces falling into place. I took a deep breath and sat down- I was on Mars. And the confused man ignoring be had to be the Martian Man, the scientist on Mars too resilient to die even after being left alone on a foreign hostile planet. The crazy farmer checking his plants- the potatoes- was Dr. Mark Watney. I bet I scared the shit out of him – hallucination really was a pretty likely explanation for seeing me. No time to feel bad for him-I need his help to survive, and he doesn’t think I’m real. No food for hallucinations. 

I sat down heavily on one of the beds and cradled my head in my hands to ease the ache of reality setting in. Which was the biggest problem? How close I came to death? A few feet to the left or right and I would have died of exposure immediately. Being on Mars? I’m probably going to starve or freeze or decompress the way that the news had been predicting may happen to Dr Watney. Jumping on camera to the one place where everything was monitored? I may have gotten my whole family a one way ticket to government experiment-ville. NASA wasn’t the type of agency to round people up, but it was attached to a good number that might. And NASA wasn’t the only one –the world was watching Watney, he was a huge celebrity. My family might get wiped out by a scared angry mob. Mobs didn’t need much to go on- we’re different and that’s enough. I would have to use a fake name up here, never mention them again. And they would have to pretend not to know me. A lonely solution, but the best I can do.  
My hands had rubbed the herbs in my hair, releasing the aromatic oils I loved about them. The scent of rosemary tried valiantly to cover up the stench of human manure and man-sweat that I had been ignoring. Slowly a feeble plan began to form. These herbs were freshly cut. Essentially clippings, ready to be propagated. Watney was a botanist. Even if he never acknowledged my existence, plants were special. And edible. He couldn’t afford to ignore them. I grabbed the closest cup, added an inch of water, and started to unravel my hair releasing the tender clippings. Next I would catalog the seeds in my packet. Tomorrow I would try and get him to plant them. And he would have to acknowledge me. Maybe.


	3. Jumping explained. Sort of.

SOL 188

We were sitting across from each other, and for the first time since I arrived Mark Watney was acknowledging that I did, in fact, exist. He was staring at me with the sort of intensity usually reserved for very large spiders. Why wouldn’t he? I had broken all the laws of physics. At least, I did based on his understanding. But now that NASA had confirmed my existence Mark couldn’t write me off as a hallucination anymore. Poor guy.

“So you are real.” Mark’s expression was guarded.

I nodded “As real as they come.”

“Are you an alien?”

“No, I’m human like you.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes”

“I mean, you did appear out of nowhere and we are in space.”

“I’m sure. I know being alien would make more sense, but that’s not what I am. I grew up in Colorado with parents and siblings and a normal American childhood.”

“How did you get here?” 

“I’m not sure. Best I can tell, I fell through the cracks in Space-Time.” 

We both knew it was a terrible answer, but it was as close as I could get. Mark had narrowed his eyes again into little slits of suspicion, as if he could squeeze the truth out if he could just scrutinize me hard enough. I sighed and massaged the tension knot growing just above my temple. Maybe rolling in a little fiction could help him accept what I was saying. It worked with the Arrgoyos. 

“So in star trek they have transporter beams that take you apart and reassemble you on another spot. For some reason I can do that without a machine- but not anywhere near as well.”

“So there is no transport beam that could take us both home? 

“No. We’re stuck.” His shoulders slumped. Not that I blamed him. 

“I don’t actually know how it works. Honestly… your guess is probably as good as mine. “

‘I doubt that’

He was right of course. I had way more data about jumping- the family had been collecting it as best they could for centuries. That doesn’t mean I understood. The data was collected to help us prevent jumps and survive them. Understanding was a secondary concern. 

“You must have some idea of what happens.”

“Well, what happens and how it happens are two different things. Jumping must be genetic, because it runs in the family. Dominant too, or it would have bred out my now. Jumping is painful. Usually you land in the same time frame as you left, maybe off by a year or two. It is possible to jump on purpose, sometimes. But you can’t control where you go, or when. Worse, most of the time people who jump on purpose lose internal organs.”

Mark leaned back, clearly debating which question to ask first. I kept talking. 

“Jumping has been a carefully guarded secret in the family for obvious reasons. But now that I’m on camera- on NASA’s space cameras- I don’t know how long that will last. We have been keeping records on it though so that we can try to figure it out. Typically we start jumping at puberty. Every time, you jump farther. Then either you learn to stop jumping, or eventually you jump someplace you can’t survive.” I sighed and rubbed the tension knot on my forehead. “Before now, I was just worried about ending up in the middle of the ocean. But Mars…. Shit, I didn’t know other planets were a possibility.”

“So you can’t go back.” 

“Already tired of me?” My tone was joking, but I was worried.

“No! I just... I just don’t want you to have to starve. Or suffocate. Or listen to terrible disco music.” Mark trailed off as he started to remember all the things that could go wrong. 

“No, I can’t go back. Like I said, every jump takes you farther. I would probably end up on Jupiter, missing a lung or a liver, or a leg.”

“So how do we keep you from jumping then?” A mischievous smile was plastered on his face. It did not hide that he still didn’t trust me. Mark would really suck at poker. “You are just so much more fun with all your internal organs.” Interesting. I had been expecting more resistance about trying to go back.

“From the records, it seems like there are jumping triggers to avoid, and a few ways to anchor yourself in time and space. Wearing silver is the easiest way. We picked it up from legends in the old country about not letting the fey spirit you away. The bracelet I had when I got here was supposed to be silver, but it must be fake. Having children tends to anchor parents but not siblings. When you feel a jump coming, you can grab onto something solid and focus very hard on staying put. The slightest distraction and suddenly you show up in a new place.”

“So, if Jumping is so dangerous, and you can stop it, why did you do it?” 

Ohhh Shhiiiiiiiit. I did not want to explain that one to a total stranger, especially with NASA wanting a report on it immediately. 

Mark was staring at me, and the silence was becoming oppressive. I had to give him an answer. 

“Jumping starts around puberty, and most of those jumps are harmless- short distances, almost always to a familiar place. At that point anyone who knows steps in to try and prevent any more jumps. After puberty, the most common thing that triggers a Jump is extreme pain, emotional or physical. Which is ironic, because jumping is excruciating.” 

Mark nodded his understanding. 

“And then there are the odd jumps. They don’t really seem to have a trigger, but you can feel them coming. I tried to stay put Dr Watney- I did. But…” Tears began to well up in my eyes. I had to cut this short before my voice gave into the sob that was welling up in the back of my throat. “But I couldn’t stay put. The reason why is another conversation and you will just have to ask me later.”

Mark was clearly trying to organize his thoughts into coherent questions, but accepting Jumping in general is a mind-fuck. It was going to take some digesting, for him and for NASA. 

“You were all over the news when I Jumped here. Dr. Mark Watney the Martian colonist.” I pulled the mug of rosemary and Marigolds cuttings over from the side of the table. “Before you report back to NASA, can you show me how to get these things to grow?”

“Sure. But stop calling me Dr Watney- it’s Mark.”

“Nice to meet you Mark. I’m Megan.”


	4. NASA handles the public

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NASA revealed Megan to the world. Predictably, the public loses their collective shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to expand this chapter later. But I also kinda like the lack of exposition on what is happening on earth. Mars is isolated and Mark/Megan wouldn't know a whole lot about Earth's reaction either.

JPL- WE HAVE BEEN OFFICIALLY PETITIONED TO CALL MEGAN ‘THE SPACE GODDESS’, ‘FALLEN ANGEL,’ AND SOME COLRADANS WANT ‘MJ' FOR MEGAN JANE. LOGISTICS TEAMS PREFER ‘ALIEN PARASITE.’ PR HATES EVERYTHING AND CALLS HER A MASSIVE PAIN IN THE BUTT.

JPL- FORTUNATELY PUBLIC SUPPORT FOR NASA AND THE RESCUE MISSION INCREASED NOT DECREASED. FOR THE MOST PART.

PATHFINDER- FLATTERING. MEGAN WANTS ‘PATRON SAINT OF MAD SCIENCE’ 

Apparently earth couldn’t decide if I was a hoax, an alien, or something altogether. I had sat for several grainy photos from the patchy link with pathfinder and sent some responses back and forth for Annie Montrose’s interactions with news crews. I wasn’t totally convinced it would help. Since I was so far out of the ordinary, no one new would believe I really existed unless another jumper on earth decided to reveal themselves. I certainly wasn’t going to volunteer my family to be experimented on by the government-didn’t exactly go well last time. Fitting that most the experiments took place in Area 51. If I ever make it back, they will probably use it again to experiment on me.


	5. Preventative Maintenence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to alter the Canon a bit- killing the plants on the right timeline they would both starve way too fast.

SOL 189

“So tell me about your preventative maintenance plan.”

“My what?”

“The list of things you do to make sure that all hell doesn’t break lose. I may not be a botanist engineer, but I do learn quickly. This is space. If you aren’t going to throw me out of the airlock to save resources, I need to contribute. So. What can I do to be of use?”

Mark looked at me with a mixture of approval and apprehension. I’m pretty sure he would rather accidentally kill himself than let some noob do it for him. But on the other hand, maybe I could be helpful. 

“Look, wouldn’t it be better if more than one person knew how to do all the daily things at least? You can supervise to your hearts content until you are sure I won’t fuck something up worse than you.” 

“what makes you thing I’m going to fuck something up?”

“It’s space Watney.”

Eventually the natural teacher in him came out. We laid out a list of all the potential problems that could happen.

Things that might go wrong:  
• Run out of food  
• Not enough water  
• Oxygen recycler breaks. Suffocate.  
• Storms  
• Plants start dying- starve  
• Pathfinder linkup breaks  
• Atmospheric regulator breaks- Depressurize  
• HAB breech- depressurize  
• Space suit breaks  
• Solar panels break, no power, freeze/suffocate/etc  
• JMP breaks- no transport to Schiaparelli. 

I leaned back and eyeballed the list. “Most of these are about shit breaking. What do I need to look out for? Obviously any new noises, leaks or other things like that. But how often do you inspect your equipment? What do you look for?”

Mark raised an eyebrow at me, and waived his hand to indicate I should continue

“In a normal garden, you keep an eye out for bugs and leaf changes. Diabetics watch their blood sugar. In a bio lab, you sterilize and autoclave everything. What do I check neurotically in space?”

The conversation continued for quite some time. It would have been so much better with coffee- But y'know. Rations. 


	6. Mark watches Megan work

SOL 195

I leaned against the entrance to the HUD farm, watching Megan work. True to her word, she had been a fast learner. In less than a week she had learned everything I could teach about propagation. The food situation was critical- two mouths to feed instead of one meant we needed to ramp up production on the farm. Running the numbers there was no way we could eat full rations even with the seeds and clippings Megan had miraculously brought with her. I didn’t mind. It was so nice to have a companion, someone to work with, to discuss ideas with. I swear, when I wasn’t worried about something exploding, I worried about being the first man to ever literally die of boredom. Unfortunately Megan is absolute shit at programing, and I am not about to let her learn on any of the vital systems. However she did have a solid grasp of basic mechanics, biology, and a knack for seeing problems before they happened. That wall integrity inspection she came up with really saved our butts. Airlock one was on the verge of a major tear. I felt a cold sweat break out thinking about the possibility. Megan’s first independent project was finding a way to patch thin spots if we ran out of repair kits. Good fucking luck. 

Currently she was planting the rosemary and thyme clippings that had sprouted roots in Lewis’s coffee mug. The rhythm of her movements was soothing somehow. Scoop a trough right to left, bend forward to place the clipping, press the dirt around the stem. Scoop, bend, press, Scoop bend press. I watched her arms, her shoulders. My eyes wandered down the curve of her back… and lower… Mars had been so lonely for so long. I fought the visceral surge of energy, demanding action. She was a teammate now, and teammates were off-limits. No going back once we crossed that line… I felt a familiar tug below the waistline, and shifted to hide the awkward boner. Like high school all over again. 

Megan finished planting the row and the carefully selected seeds, and stood, brushing the dirt and manure from her hands. She turned around and grinned at me, which did nothing to relieve the pressure near my pelvis. She had commandeered Lewis and Johansen’s clothing which was slightly too small for her- I could see the fabric stretched across her chest and well developed body. How did that girl get so muscular anyway? 

“Well King Watney, how do the crops look this fine day?” She was looking up at me with a grin that implied they were perfect. 

“You missed one, pseudo-apprentice botanist.”

“What? Where?” Megan’s chest jiggled ever so slightly as she rounded on the farm looking for the offending clipping. There are no spare bras in space. I suppressed a moan.

“I’m kidding, you did great.” The tone of my voice must have betrayed me, because all the cheerfulness was gone when she responded

“We still don’t have enough, do we?”

“Depends on how well your seeds sprout. Unfortunately, they probably won’t have as many calories as potatoes.”


	7. Serious questions

SOL 201

“I’d like to talk, Megan.”   
Mark was wearing his serious face, the one he usually had on after running the calorie counts yet again. I thought that was what he wanted to talk about. I sighed and plopped into the chair opposite him. 

“What would you like to talk about?”

“You said that the reason you ended up jumping here was a discussion for another day. Everything I can think of is done for now. I want to know if you are going to disappear on me. Why couldn’t you stay put?”

Shit. I didn’t want to have this conversation. But here I was, eating half the food, using up supplies and not contributing more than a few hours work. He deserved to know, even if I didn’t want to tell him. 

“I told you that I was at a wedding when it happened. Not true. I was at a pagan planting festival. I kept it quiet because I don’t think the public would approve in general. That’s why I had the hair flowers and the mix of seeds.”

Mark gaped at me like I had grown an extra head. 

“Oh come on. It’s not like paganism is at top of the ‘weirdest things that have happened’ list. The festival is very straightforward- there is some singing, some dancing and some drinking and then we plant seeds as an offering. Isn’t appearing 30 million miles away from where I started significantly stranger? Besides, it was the only reason we have something fresh to eat besides potatoes. ”

Mark graciously shut his mouth and nodded, whether he agreed or not. Close enough. 

“I was just a part of the crowd, relaxing, living my life. I could feel the reality shift that meant a Jump might happen, but I had taken all the usual precautions- solid silver, never drinking enough to be more than tipsy. So when I felt the Jump starting I wasn’t worried. I just made my way to the edge of the crowd and just started to concentrate on staying put. It was going to be fine.” I drew in a ragged breath, emotional at the unfairness of it all. “But the silver wasn’t real. And then he showed up and startled me. I tried to stay put but… but it didn’t work.” 

I finally let down the veneer of calmness and started to cry heavily. I had been ignoring the reality of the situation- and now it was just too much. 

“I’m so sorry Mark. I know there isn’t enough food for both of us.” The past two weeks had shown me that Mark was the one who should survive- he was fucking brilliant, good-natured and optimistic. He was part of the team that NASA sent, the one earth wanted to save. He was selected from hundreds of applicants because he was literally the best. I just showed up. Even now, his face showed sympathy- no anger, just the beginning of one of his endless jokes to lighten the mood. 

My emotions were running wild and the borders of reality started to vibrate. Another Jump was coming.   
“Mark.” My voice was deadly serious and I prepared to do what I needed to. “Do you want me to jump away so that there will be enough to get you home?”   
I gripped the edge of my seat as the abyss tried to pull me in. All I needed was an answer.


	8. A serious answer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible non-consent trigger

SOL 201  
Megan’s body began to go fuzzy when she looked at me with her piercing green eyes. The steel in her gaze was terrifying.  
“Mark. Do you want me to jump away so that there will be enough to get you home?”  
Horror raced through my body. She was going to leave- to kill herself. No one should die trying to rescue me. Maybe worse, I would be alone again.   
“NO!” My response was so visceral that the word tore itself from my lips.  
I leapt towards Megan, to stop her, to hold her here. I had just barely accepted that I wasn’t alone and now she was leaving me, dying. I stopped just shy of touching her- didn’t want to break her concentration. She was shuddering, fingers digging into her chair.  
“Stay” I didn’t bother trying to hide the desperation in my voice, the longing. I couldn’t be alone, not again.  
She gave me a barely perceptible nod and began to breathe deeply. She closed her eyes and pressed her feet into the floor. In and out, in and out, she breathed. I watched her closely, begging whatever force brought her here to let her stay. An eternity later Megan’s body relaxed and she looked up at me- at some point I had stood up.  
“Mark, are you sure?”  
“Don’t be ridiculous. That was terrifying, never do it again. Now how do we anchor you again? Silver?” I turned to find my inventory list. Vogel had some interesting personal effects, and Beck had a picture frame. One of those could be silver.  
“How pure does the silver have to be?”  
“I’ll take what I can get.” I dragged Beck’s bin out from under the cot, and dug out the picture frame and handed it to her.  
“No good. Stainless steel” She turned the frame sideways and showed me the imprint- ‘STAINLESS STEEL. MADE IN CHINA’ Damn. Hopefully Vogel had something. I pulled out his box of random chunks of metal and rocks and handed it to Megan to hold. Chemists have the weirdest shit. Now where was that little figurine he had?  
“Found it.”  
“What?” I paused holding a stack of photos, organized by date  
“Vogel’s’ silver catalyst.” She was holding a tarnished stick- it looked like a match after being burnt.  
“How do you know?” Catalysts. So that’s what was in the box. Probably from important experiments that Vogel had done. Chemists.  
“Well he labeled it.” Makes sense. Megan had started to polish the stick while I put away the boxes.  
“Now that you have an anchor, I have more questions. How many times have you jumped before?”  
“Three.”  
“Is that usual? How many people like you are there?  
“Most people only jump 2 or 3 times. I only know of my family, and there are maybe a dozen of us.”  
“Megan, who is ‘he’? The one who showed up right before you came here, who distracted you.” Megan breathed in sharply and her grip tightened on the silver.  
“It’s a long story” she was pale, pressing her lips together. She did not want to talk.  
“Try me.”  
“I need a hug.” My scientist mind shushed the animal deep inside which was roaring its approval at finally finally- touching a woman. No matter how badly I wanted her, I needed answers. And she had only wanted a hug- a gesture of comfort. Megan had made her way to one of the beds and sat hugging her knees to her chest. Sitting behind her I gently hugged her shoulders, rubbing my hand up and down one of her arms. She was shaking again.  
“I jumped three times before this. The first time I was 14. That was when I hit puberty and the jumping kicked in. Nothing major, just showed up at my Aunt’s house. After that I started wearing silver, learning about all the family members who jump like me.”  
I gave her shoulders a little squeeze and kept rubbing her arm- What she said about painful triggers was rattling around my head again. What on earth had happened? Megan usually carried herself with an air of precision and determination- she was strong. It was disturbing to see her look so vulnerable. She was shaking violently and I could see tears welling around her eyes.  
“The second time I was 17. ‘He’ was at my high school, and he would follow me until I was alone.” Her fingers found mine and squeezed. They were cold. “I don’t have his name. I barely recognize his face. The way he smells and the way he sounds- it’s distinctive. I always recognized him when he got close. But the same thing happened every time. I would be alone, vulnerable, tired. I wouldn’t notice him, and I would be getting ready to leave for the day at my locker in the empty hall. He would come up behind me, and grab me. And then it would be too late.”  
Megan wasn’t the only one shaking now. My hindbrain had switched from lust to anger. I held her a little closer, to protect her from some invisible threat.  
“I don’t remember much after that- there are huge blank spots in my memory that are just black. No drugs, no alcohol, I just don’t remember.” She inhaled bracing herself for the next disclosure. “One time he followed me outside first.” Her shivers intensified. “He pinned me under one of the pine trees by the track. There were these two fences barely far enough apart that you could walk through them. No one could see between them I begged him to let me go, I made up some story about catching the bus, but he didn’t listen. He should have listened. Mark, why didn’t he listen?”  
Megan was in tears again. I made a conscious effort to keep my fingers from digging into her shoulders over my fury at the wrongness of it.  
“I remember bits and pieces of what happened next. His hand was over my mouth so I couldn’t scream. Clothes started coming off. I tried to fight, but he was too strong. I was wearing a silver bracelet and he took it off to get a better hold of my wrist. The next thing I know I was in Mexico.”  
Megan turned around a grabbed my shirt, heartbreaking half sobs stopping her from continuing. I wanted to be gentle, to protect her but not to overpower her, never to seem threatening even though my hands were shaking with anger.  
“Mark, can you put your hand flat on my back, right between the shoulder blades and rub in little circles? It makes me feel safe.” Of course I could.  
“From Mexico I would have been just fine if I had kept my head. I was on a cocoa plantation, probably in Oaxaca. I could smell mole, so a house wasn’t that far away. But I was panicking and I did something stupid” Megan spat the word as if stupidity was the worst part of the story. “I tried to jump back home.” Her shoulders rounded defensively. “It didn’t work. Stupid.”  
I said nothing, rubbing her back in small circles as instructed. “I ended up in Tierra del Fuego. Its nickname is Fin del Mundo- the end of the Earth. I landed on one of the mountains, but I could see a town, so I started walking. Almost didn’t make it between the cold and the bleeding- but after I did the people were so warm and welcoming. One of the local families took me in. They had a daughter my age who was one of los desaparecidos.” A small smile flitted across her lips. “We still keep in touch. It’s a beautiful place you know. There are penguins. If we make it back to earth, I’ll take you to go see it.” She glanced up at me and grinned through her tear-streaked lashes “Then I can say I took a Martian to the end of the earth and back.”  
I chuckled despite how angry I still was with whoever he was. Wait- “Bleeding?”  
“It took about 6 months to sort out all the documents for me to come home. Honestly I’m glad it did. Gave me time to heal. But once I got back, we did an ultrasound with the family doctor. Between the two jumps I had lost a kidney, a piece of my liver- that’s what caused bleeding- and damaged my uterus. I’ll never be able to have kids. It was a harsh realization at 17.”  
It was a harsh realization at any age. I held Megan and rubbed her back, right between the shoulder blades. She nuzzled her head right beneath my chin and grabbed a fistful of shirt. I could feel the hot wetness from her tears on my neck. Keep it together Mark. Only comfort, nothing more. Don't be a creeper.  
“When I recovered I learned to fight, just in case. Pretty good at it too. I wasn’t able to press charges because I didn’t know who he was. I never saw him again until just before I came here. I guess eight years isn’t long enough to forget.” Megan’s breathing had evened out and she was beginning to fall asleep. Probably emotions and the lack of food were starting to catch up with her. “Anything else you want to know Mark?”  
“No, that’s all.”  
“Mkay. G’night” She turned to putty as she stopped resisting the pull of the pillow. I rubbed her back for a few more minutes, silently vowing to protect her.


	9. Space sex?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, Space sex! We all know the smut is why we read these sometimes.

SOL 223

~  
Dear space diary,  
Mark has me hooked on writing these things for posterity. I know, I know, this is a log of experiments for posterity. Space diary fits better- Mark has logs, but I’m not allowed to do any experiments yet. Not official ones anyway.  
Speaking of Mark, I have never been one to ignore my more visceral desires without good reason. We are on the brink of death all the time. I just don’t see why we couldn’t find a little comfort in each other. Besides, I cant think straight. Even before Jumping to a space hut with exactly one man in it, I have been without for almost a year. And Mark is interesting- before the Jump I loved his personality as the spokesperson for the ARES III mission. Optimistic, cracking jokes. He has a way of drawing people in making you feel included. I like it even better in person. He is a good teacher, explaining reasoning for each task. Never once has he complained that I have effectively cut his remaining time in half. He just accepted me as a teammate. Wish I had the training to go with it. And when I told him my secrets, he listened and understood. I felt so warm, so protected. And he’s not bad looking.  
I want him.  
He wants me too- I’ve noticed the subtle shifts to hide all those hard-ons. I got here on Sol 187, the trip here took 142 days, and today is SOL 223. So he is at a minimum of 1 year as well.  
How badly would relations screw up operations anyway?  
~

“Hey Mark. Is all of today’s work finished?” I had opted for a direct approach, and was wearing only his NASA sweater. I leaned my elbow against the wall, level with my head. It looked like a casual pose, but it pulled the hem of the sweater up to expose my leg nearly to the hip.

“Looks like it. Everything is holding for naahhhh…auhhh…” Words slurred to nonsense as Mark looked up from his problem list and his mouth fell open, pencil clattering to the floor. What kind of shocked face was that? Desire, surprise, or horror? Let’s find out. 

“I have a question.” I pushed off the wall and sauntered over to the table. I placed my forearms on the surface but remained standing, lowering my torso until my face was even with his so that he could look me in the ‘eyes’. “Why is it that two people can’t be….intimate on a space mission?” If he wasn’t interested, it would be obvious. And if it really would fuck everything up, he would tell me. Hopefully.

“Uh, they… It… Team dynamics.” His eyes were flitting between my face and the rest of my body. A small involuntary smile began to creep on the edges of his lips. So he was interested. 

“Well, what if there isn’t the rest of the team?” I shifted my elbows with the pretense of resting my chin on one hand- it was really to surreptitiously squeeze my boobs so they looked bigger. Yay boobies. 

Mark had recovered from the unexpectedness of my advances. He got up and stepped towards me. I glanced approvingly at the bulge in his pants as I flipped around and sat on the table, keeping eye contact as I crossed my feet at the ankle. He put his hands on either side of my hips and looked me right in the eyes. 

“As long as both parties think that there is nothing shady going on, I don’t see a problem.” His breath was baited, begging for an approval. 

“I don’t see anything shady. Do you?”

In response, a guttural noise and a fluid movement- he couldn’t wait anymore. Mark pulled my knees apart and back until my legs straddled his hips, kissing me deeply. One hand grabbed my hip, the other running up and down my torso, the pads of his fingertips pressing into my skin, feeling every detail. I wrapped my legs around him and grabbed his hair while the other hand felt the edges of his muscles. My hips moved involuntarily against his torso, and he moaned- the noise of a man finally getting what he wants. 

A familiar slippery sensation was growing between my legs, buoyed by the rush of warmth running up my thighs, my abdomen, my chest. His fingers gripped my breast, and he began to kiss and bite down my jawline, gently nipping at my neck and collarbone. I leaned back, moaning and grabbing at a fistful of his shirt. The vigor in our unbridled passion was rivaled only by teenagers. But we weren’t teenagers- we were two adults with enough experience to know what we were doing. Driven not just by hormones, but by a terrible understanding of statistics, biology, and physics. A visceral need to prove that the constant struggle was worth it, even if we never made it off Mars. 

Mark shoved the hem of my NASA sweater up over my head, the offending garment thrown recklessly at the bunks. I assisted his nylon shirt in a similar trajectory. Chests heaving we took a minute to finally see one another- the partial rations hadn’t had time to waste the muscles beneath his skin. Then we collided again kissing and grabbing, digging in with the pads of our fingertips. I slid my hand down Mark’s pants, moving the fitted elastic out of the way, exposing him. The first thrust sent a wave of pleasure coursing through my body, the warm tingle lingering in my fingers and lips. Then the second, third, fourth. My vision was fine but I could also see sparks and swirls of color from the sensation. His hands pulled my buttocks closer to him, his rhythm increasing in tempo. A deep crescendo of satisfaction rose from my pubis, spreading throughout my body. My back arched, my pelvis bucked and I was lost in the feeling. Mark couldn’t hold out any longer and he exploded, his abdomen jerking as it was racked with sensation. Then we collapsed into each other’s arms, exhausted but satisfied. 

At least for a minute.


	10. No Space Babies for Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These are things you have to consider.

I was so lost in the pleasure of the moment it took a minute to realize what I had done. “Oh Fuck. Fuuuccck. FUUUUCCCK.” I began to pace back and forth, the color draining from my face. Space- no condoms, no birth control. And I just fucked up the pull out method. 

“Mark what is it?” Megan usually could put two and two together, she must still be winded. 

“Space babies.” My words were a terrified whisper. 

Megan let out a half- laugh. “That’s not a problem we need to worry about.” 

What the fuck? She still wasn’t getting this. Maddening. Despite my terror, I couldn’t help but feel just a little proud of my performance. Not much pulled this girl off her game.

“I can’t have kids, remember? The one thing we don’t have to worry about on this planet is birth control.”

The words pinged off my brain, too many years of sex-ed acting as a barrier. 

“Mark. You can relax. There is no risk of space babies.” Megan waited for the words to sink in, continuing when I stopped pacing and started to relax a bit. “I assume since NASA gave you a clean bill of health I don’t need to be worried about STDs.”

“I’m clean. You?” She nodded. Not that it really mattered- we were both stranded on a planet liable to die of a hundred other things before it became an issue. 

“Speaking of NASA, they will probably be pissed.”

“So don’t tell them. Not their business anyway.”

Apparently Megan hadn’t quite grasped NASA’s motto- always know everything ever. 

Fuck it. What’s done is done. May as well enjoy it

“That went too fast. Why don’t we slow it down this time?” 

Megan’s eyes sparkled when she grinned.


End file.
